


red light

by falchion



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falchion/pseuds/falchion
Summary: What was it that Zen often said... that all men were beasts?AKA the time where 707 jerks off to MC jerking off to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> dont even look at me  
> im on day 9 of his route and im so distressed bc wont he love me  
> so i wrote porn to cheer myself up

The first thing he notices is a feed he hadn't seen before.

There had always been three cameras set up in the apartment, each showing a different angle of the main room and it's entrances. That had been enough for Seven, as places like the bathroom and bedroom were none of his business, anyway.

But now there is a fourth, it's feed showing bright and clear on the bottom-right corner of his screen. Seven frowns. A glance at it shows it to obviously be that of Rika's bedroom, the sheets and decoration all as he remembered them to be.

Realisation dawns on him - he must have shut off that camera to respect Rika's privacy, all those months ago. However, when he'd re-written the algorithm in order to keep that hacker at bay, he must have re-activated the manual exclusion he'd written in.

"I suppose I better shut that off," Seven mutters, tabbing to the terminal he kept separate for RFA business, but his fingers stall over the keyboard. There's movement from the bottom corner, and his eyes adjust as there's a new brightness to the feed - the door had been opened and the light turned on. He watches as she makes her way into the room and collapses against the bed, nuzzling her face into the sheets.

A quick glance at the clock shows that it's just past three am; on the other side of his desk, his phone's LED blinks with unread messages. Had she been up late chatting with another member, perhaps?

He smiles as he watches her shuffle around, and admires the way that her hair spreads out around her. He wants to touch it - just once, to see whether it's as soft as it appears to be on camera. He begins typing, ready to shut off the camera when he sees that she's gone to bed.

But she doesn't sleep, and curious, Seven keeps an eye on the feed. He should be turning it off, he knows, but for some reason he wants to watch just a bit longer.

She rolls to her side, lowering her arms towards her legs, and lets them sit there for a moment. Frowning, Seven watches closer, wondering what it is exactly she is doing this late at night.

Then she moves her legs once more, and Seven can see it all too clearly. A gasp escapes his throat as he realises what she's doing, her fingers ghosting over her crotch, dipping slowly, teasingly, over herself.

And then, all her shyness seems to disappear in a second.

She parts her legs, her fingers running over her inner thighs and ghosting over the centre. Seven holds his breath, his eyes fixated on the scene before him. He watches her fingers grow bolder, reaching the thin material of her panties and stroking, and he doesn't miss the way her legs tremble after the slightest of touches.

She grows over bolder still, rolling to her back and hitching her legs up, her feet flat against the bed. One hand runs up to her torso, sliding under the thin sheet of her shirt and exposing her stomach to the air. She pulls it over the swell of her breasts and they peak against the cool air, moulding pliantly to the press of her fingers. Seven's breath stops, and she rubs her fingers faster against her clit, her hips beginning to sway with the movements, too.

He's hardening in his jeans, a flush running through his entire body and preening him with sweat. His pants feel tight, and unconsciously his fingers creep downward to help soothe the urge his body is pressing into him. He doesn't do this often, only out of necessity, but this time it is with need.

Her panties slide off and pool at her ankles, and Seven marvels at the sight of such a beautiful scene. She's breathing hard and squirming, her chest rising and falling quickly as her fingers begin to grow deft. The images are grainy and he can't see too clearly, but he can imagine it well. The soft flush of her folds, slick and wet as her fingers run over it spurring her on... She grows more impatient, more needy and it shows. No longer are her fingers simply rubbing against her clit, but they're falling lower, _deeper_ , and Seven can't hold himself back anymore.

His cock is rock hard when he manages to unzip his jeans, and he gasps the instant his fingers touch against it. He's never felt this way before - not from his imagination or even porn - and it's messing with his mind. His eyes flutter shut when his fingers stroke against the sensitive flesh, but he forces them open. He has to keep his eyes on the camera.

He's already missed something - she's no longer on the bed, but rummaging through her bag. Her legs are unsteady as she walks back, perhaps overly sensitive from stimulation, but she seems eager for more as she pushes herself onto her knees, and reveals what's in her hands.

It's a dildo, long and thick - at least, according to Seven's view - and made of a clear, pink jelly. His eyes go wide when he sees it, and wider still when he sees it close to her. It looks far too big for her, like it will not go in.

But he watches closely as she spreads herself forward and legs apart, and begins to slide it deep inside.

She trembles with each inch, her legs shuddering as it disappears into her. Seven's breath is heaving, his body imagining that it's his cock that's sliding into her right now. He imagines how warm and tight it must be to feel her walls clamping around him, and that it's him that's causing her to tremble and wake in pleasure. How accommodating would she be to him? Would she open to him completely, sucking him in entirely like she needed him? Would he thrust into her and drive her mad, until she couldn't think of anyone but him? Perhaps he could make her beg for him, teasing her like he did in the chatroom, before letting go and fucking her until she could cry no more.

Her mouth falls open and Seven imagines the sounds she makes - her voice is near familiar, often circulating his brain at any given hour of the day, but to hear them as she's in the midst of pleasure is something he now realises he _needs_.

"S-Sound," he murmurs. That's right - there are microphones attached to the cameras, which he can turn on should he have the need. Taking his fingers from his cock, he quickly slides his chair to the main computer and begins typing faster than he has ever before.

The seconds feel like hours, but as soon as he hits the enter key sound floods through his speakers. He feels filthy doing this, invading her privacy on so many different levels, but he's beyond reason now.

What was it that Zen often said... that all men were beasts?

She's mewling over the speakers, that soft, quiet voice of hers raised with exertion and pleasure and it soars straight to Seven's cock. He sucks in a breath watching her squeeze her eyes tight, her hand working meticulously to plunge that cock deep inside of her.

"Shit," Seven gasps, and his head falls forward, his breath coming in pants. He's never felt like this before, his hands uncontrollable against his cock. It's stiffer than it's ever been, and each stroke is sending jolts throughout his entire body at an alarming rate.

Her back arches beautifully from the bed, like a bow drawn taut, and her head lolls to the side as she groans in pleasure.

"L... _Luciel_ ," she gasps.

Seven feels his body flare hotter than he had ever felt before. Was he - did he imagine that? But no, she says it again, this time louder and louder, and more and more with each thrust she makes and Seven can't cope.

She's in there, pounding a cock deep inside of her, and she's imagining it's _him_. It's his name that she's gasping - no, _screaming_ , and she's pretending it's him who's fucking into her like their lives depended on it.

He rushes to hold the base of his cock, lest he come, which he is already dangerously close to doing. His body screams for release, his body numb with pleasure and wanting to give in, but Seven knows that he can't. Not yet - not until she's finished, because he wants to see it all.

But perhaps she's close too, because her thrusts are beginning to lose their momentum. She slides her leg to the side, opening herself wider, and now it's less about the rhythm but more about just getting fucked. She's gasping loudly, her voice tumbling out uncontrollably now. It's incoherent and a mess, yet Seven can hear the syllables jumbling out towards his name.

Her knee jerks upwards, and her body goes taut. She lets out a loud gasp, before a long keening groan and Seven doesn't think he's heard anything more beautiful. She's coming, her body wracking itself in pleasure, and he can't hold on any longer, either.

She's panting, nearly crying from the feeling of release, and the sound of her voice so broken sends him over the edge. His eyes squeeze shut as he comes, a loud choked groan escaping his throat, no matter how hard he tries to quell it. He's never come like this before, either, his entire body locking itself into searing pleasure, and he thinks he's going to die before it's over.

He takes in a deep breath, deeper than any he's ever taken, and he can finally sit straight again. Sweat pools from his forehead, and his shirt sticks to his skin. He's struggling to breathe, still, and his cock feels raw and sensitive to touch.

But most of all, he feels filthy.

Her soft whimpers begin to die off over the speaker, a sign that she's calming down. Her legs are still sprawled over the sheets, and with slow movements she pulls the cock from herself, unable to suppress a shudder as she does so.

Seven doesn't understand. He's no longer controlled by the primal urge to fuck, his body winding down, but still he cannot look away. He cannot help but imagine that it was him who did this to her. That it was his cock that drew those sounds from her, that made her cry out, and that it was him who made her breathe his name in the way she did.

He slumps against the chair, unable to make sense of the situation.

But then the speaker crackles to life once more.

It's quiet, and had Seven not been already fine-tuned to the sound of her voice, he would have missed it amongst the static and the sound of his own heartbeat.

" _Goodnight, Seven_."

**Author's Note:**

> [my writing blog](http://klwritesstuff.tumblr.com/)


End file.
